


Hawt

by mrs_d



Series: MCU Kink Bingo [5]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: M/M, MCU Kink Bingo, Masturbation, Sexual Fantasy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-26
Updated: 2018-09-26
Packaged: 2019-07-17 20:35:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,235
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16103309
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mrs_d/pseuds/mrs_d
Summary: Sam’s alone on a Sunday afternoon. Sweating.





	Hawt

**Author's Note:**

> For the Sam/Steve square on my bingo card (which is basically another free square for me).

Sam’s got all the windows open in the hopes of catching a breeze. Hell, it doesn’t even have to be a whole breeze — he’d settle for part of one. Anything to move the stagnant, humid air that’s surrounding him like soup.

Fine time for the air conditioning to break. From what the repairman said when he called him this morning, it’s an epidemic; the soonest he can get here is the day after tomorrow. Sam called a few other places that he found online, but they’re all saying the same thing: this heat is just too much for people’s A/C units.

If Steve were here, he’d take a look at it. The guy knows nothing about heating and cooling, just like he knows nothing about dishwashers, but when theirs started leaking, he tried to take it apart anyway. He’s got that Depression-era stubbornness that Sam remembers seeing in his grandfather — never pay somebody to do something until you’re sure you can’t do it for free. But at least his grandfather didn’t have Google and YouTube tutorials; Steve has to be knee-deep in parts before he lets Sam call it in.

But Steve’s not here. He’s on the other side of the world with the Avengers, and he won’t be home till the weekend. Sam stayed in New York to follow up on some Winter Soldier leads, as well as his new VA clients. Transferring from DC has been hard enough; he can’t take time off just yet.

So here he is, alone on a Sunday afternoon. Sweating.

He just had a shower, his second of the day, to cool off, and he can’t stand the idea of putting clothes on again. He’s in just his boxers, his legs spread wide to keep his damp skin from sticking to itself. The fan he bought at the hardware store this morning is on the coffee table in front of him, oscillating. It’s warm air, but at least it’s moving — and it’s enough to make his nipples perk up. He touches one absently, and gasps as an unexpected shiver rolls down his back.

It’s been a week since he’s had sex.

Suddenly, that’s all he can think about. The goodbye sex with Steve was pretty fantastic. Well, all their sex is pretty fantastic, but they’d tried a new position. Like so many things, Steve had learned about it online, but unlike dishwasher repair, he actually knew what he was doing, and his stubbornness paid off in a serious way.

Sam shifts on the sofa, spreads his legs a little wider, the way they were that night. He was on his back on top of Steve, his arm between Steve’s head and the pillow, their lips brushing as Steve fucked him, shallow and quick. He twists at the memory, his stomach tingling with arousal. It was a little embarrassing at first, to be spread-eagle on top of Steve, but he thinks that’s why Steve wanted to try it; he’s always liked looking at Sam. And in the bedroom, it’s hot, the way his eyelashes drop as he takes in Sam’s body. Before Steve, it’d been a long time since anybody looked at him that way, and Sam’s not too humble to pretend he doesn’t like it.

In fact, he wishes Steve were here now, looking at him the way he does.

He lets his eyes close, lets himself imagine it — Steve walking in on him now, finding him mostly undressed, his cock tenting out the fabric of his boxers. Would he fuck him, Sam wonders, or just watch as Sam fucks himself? He drops a hand to his crotch at the thought, gives himself a loose stroke that’s mostly cloth. The indirect friction is teasing, teasing the way Steve would if he were here, giving Sam enough to want more, walking that line of frustrated pleasure.

His palm, when he gets it around his shaft, is warm and dry, nothing like the slick grip of Steve’s mouth, or the hot squeeze of his ass, but it’s enough. His imagination fills in the details: Steve surprises him by walking in the door, barely gets his shoes off before putting a hand on Sam’s cock. He’s flushed from outside, his hair flattened with sweat, clothes sticking to his back. His body radiates heat, stoking an answering fire in Sam.

He can feel himself sweating now, the air from the fan cooling his chest more than it was a minute ago, and he reaches up to tweak his firm nipple. The sensation makes his cock twitch. He wants it — God, he wants everything, _now,_ — and he’s licking his hand, too desperate to go to the bedroom for lube.

The first touch of his wet fingers to the crown of his cock draws a whimper out of his throat. His teeth dig into his bottom lip till it hurts, he squirms against the couch cushion as he traces the vein down the underside of his erection, thinking of Steve’s firm wet tongue, feeling his own pulse pick up speed.

“God,” he hears himself whisper, and he gives in, strokes his cock slow and hard.

Steve did this that last night they were together. God bless his superpowered coordination, that he could fuck Sam so quick while giving him the slowest hand job imaginable. Maybe _that_ was why he wanted to do it that way, Sam thinks through the fog of arousal. Steve comes like he runs — much faster than Sam — and it took him a few tries to slow down, so they could come together, or, as Steve seems to prefer it, so Sam could come first. The position they tried the other night didn’t give Steve enough leverage to fuck him deep or hard, which meant he could get Sam off while he was still inside, and— good Lord, Sam loves coming with Steve inside him.

He’s getting closer now, and he starts thinking about Steve walking in on him again, how he could drop his pants and pull Sam to his feet with one hand, grease him up and have him against the wall in seconds flat. It wouldn’t be the first time; Sam got captured once by some HYDRA goons when they were just starting to work together, and Steve barrelled through the guards till there was nobody left standing. Within minutes he’d shoved aside their gear, pulled a pack of lube from nowhere, and had Sam gasping and coming, right there in the bad guys’ lair.

His back arches at the memory, shoving his dick through the tight circle of his fist, faster now, harder. He licks his lips, tastes the sweat that’s run down over them, and he’s thinking about Steve kissing him through his orgasm that last time, about how his mouth was a refuge, a soft landing. He loves the way Steve kisses him, and if he were here, he’d swallow Sam’s gasps, his mumbled blasphemies. He’d hold Sam tight to his body, put his hand over Sam’s and draw it out of him, flicking his wrist — like that — and rubbing the head just— like—

“Jesus, _fuck—”_ Sam says as he comes, unexpected and sudden, the rush running through him like an electrical current. He feels lit up for a moment, strung on a live wire, and then it passes. So quick, but it’s exactly what he needed today.

And now he needs another shower.


End file.
